


Ground Work

by Silmerion



Category: RWBY
Genre: Activism, Anti-Faunus Racism (RWBY), Gen, Post-Volume 5 (RWBY), two (2) swear words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16403333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silmerion/pseuds/Silmerion
Summary: The Belladonnas' volunteers have agreed to help Mistral with reconstruction and defense. Ilia and Sun go canvassing, hoping to ease their stay, but activism is never easy.





	Ground Work

**Author's Note:**

> I've spent the last couple months unhappily fighting with a bevy of other drafts. To be honest, I'm not all that happy with this one, either, but I wanted to get one more fic out before RWBY V6 dropped. I'm sad these two aren't coming along to Atlas, but I hope they have a good time in Mistral!

At length the door to the restaurant slid away. Into its void stepped a human man - gruff and graying, the sun at Ilia’s shoulder throwing ravines of wrinkles into relief. He eyed the pamphlets in her hand suspiciously, but whisked over her quickly, lingered more studiously on Sun. In another life, she’d earned that absence of attention from countless classmates. He didn’t know.

“Good morning, sir,” Ilia began, back straightening as her rehearsals took over. “My name is Ilia Amitola, and this is Sun Wukong. We’re here on behalf of the Haven Reconstruction Mission. How are you today?”

The man idled in Sun’s direction before he finally turned to her. “Fine,” he expelled. “What’s your business?”

Irritable from the first, but Ilia reminded herself that they had expected that. It was better than no response at all, if not easier. “To be frank, sir, we were hoping to speak with you today about this establishment’s ‘No Faunus’ policy. Are you the proprietor?”

His eyes narrowed. “I am, but there’ll be no speaking today,” he declared. “Miss, we’re all...thankful...for his kind’s” - he indicated Sun with a flick of his hand - “ _help_ in fending off the White Fang assault. Your heart’s in the right place trying to do good for them in return. But I’m not budging on the rule.”

Sun’s turn. “May we ask why, sir?” He spoke up.

The man rounded on Sun again, and for a moment his consternation could have passed for confusion. Ilia watched his eyes widen fractionally, as if noticing a frivolous detail in an old room for the first time. But he schooled his features swiftly enough. “It’s nothing personal, kid. I got patrons who are uncomfortable with you, and I gotta respect their wishes before trying to make nice. Sorry.”

As the man shifted his weight off the door frame, preparing to dismiss them, Ilia imagined leaving it at that. It would be so easy: _well, they’re uncomfortable, what can you do_ , her doppelganger deplored. She knew what she could have done before, when everything had seemed so simple, and the thought almost sent crimson cascading over her skin as her breathing hitched. She scraped the pads of her fingers hard with her thumbnail, shaking herself, and caught the door before the proprietor could shut it. Her genteel grin ground against his glare.

“Your patrons’... _dispositions_ notwithstanding,” she persisted, “these several thousand new arrivals represent a substantial business opportunity. For as long as Mistral requests their continued presence, they’ll need food and drink, same as anyone. You could be among the first restaurants outside of the faunus quarter to cater to them.”

The proprietor snorted. “That’s rich, little lady. I’d ask how much they paid you to say that, but we all know how good faunus are for their money.”

Ilia blinked. “I don’t, actually,” she replied, dialing her smile’s temperature as frigid as she knew how to. “Why don’t you tell me what you mean?”

“Mean exactly what I said.”

“They’re being paid,” Ilia said. “While they’re here. They’re all employed.”

“They’ll piss it away and run out on their bill,” he countered. “And I’d have to put up with the rest of the ratty faunus in this city, too. Is Mistral gonna pay _me_ for the losses?”

“With respect, sir, you are _way_ overstating that problem. You can check out the crime statistics in our pamphlet,” she said, offering one.

He didn’t take it, didn’t even look at it as he continued to size her up. “Don’t you think it’s odd,” he began eventually, “that this ‘volunteer army’ shows up just in time to save Haven? Let the situation get as bad as it can, and _Ghira Belladonna_ of all people comes charging in to save the day? Are you shitting me?” He turned to Sun then. “How dumb do you animals think we are? You Fang are all the fucking same.”

“I’m not with the Fang,” Sun spat.

The man sneered right back. “Please. The Belladonnas are welcoming Fang deserters.”

“Ghira and Kali are welcoming _good people._ ”

Some detached part of Ilia’s awareness implored her to right this ship, but her ire tumbled heedlessly over the bow. She settled on a compromise. “Sir, the vast majority of the faunus on Menagerie emigrated to escape violence-”

“I’m getting right tired of you _sir-_ ing me,” he turned on her. “It doesn’t make you sick? Watching them crawl all over our city, acting like we _owe_ them?”

Ilia threw in the towel. “ _We_ don’t think you _owe_ us anything, _sir!_ ” she snapped. “You may not want to believe it, but we sailed halfway across the world _knowing_ it’d be like this. We’d just like to patronize your restaurant while we’re here. We are _asking_ , not demanding.”

“...You’re a faunus.”

“Yes, sir.” She allowed her skin to flit across the rainbow. “Chameleon.”

“As sly as the reptile you are,” he scorned, then slammed the door.

Ilia wheeled toward the nearest alley and marched as fast as her legs would take her. She rested her head against her folded forearms on the smooth stone wall, working her breathing into a semblance of an even rhythm. As the adrenaline eased off and the world edged back into focus, she could feel Sun standing at her periphery - he must have ambled after her.  “I hate canvassing,” she announced, not moving from her spot on the wall just yet. “Gods, I’d forgotten how much. Hated it then, hate it now.”

“You did a great job back there, Ilia,” Sun offered gently.

“I cracked,” Ilia simmered, finally standing back to throw her arms wide in exasperation. “And anyway, did it matter? Do you really think _any_ of today’s gonna matter? ‘Cuz I think every visit’s gonna go exactly like that.” She scoffed. “Hell, you know what? Maybe I can hope for better. Maybe the rest of ‘em will curse us out right away, pull their weapons and save us the trouble-”

Sun had moved closer over the course of her rant, and suddenly he was hugging her tight, one arm encircling her back, the other tenderly resting on the back of her head. The embrace was more a suggestion than a demand - Sun held her with little enough force that she could tear away any time she wanted. But she found herself leaning in anyway, relief pounding in her chest. Her hands finally went to return the hug, and she held the embrace until she could feel her senses leveling out in earnest.

“It takes guts to be out here,” Sun said after a prolonged silence. “You’re a good person for trying, Ilia.”

Ilia fisted her hands in the back of his shirt. “I’m telling them up front I’m a faunus next time. I can’t do the human act.”

“Might have to save that, dude. It’s my turn on point next.”

“I’m still telling them.”

“Okay.”


End file.
